Origin of a Villain
by YourAverageHero
Summary: After being rejected by his idol, Izuku Midoriya struggles to become a Hero he can be proud of.
1. chapter 1

I never wanted to be like this. I lean back resting my exhausted body against the wall and listen to sound of dripping blood. I never wanted to be this useless. So far I haven't been able to do nearly anything right. Hell, I was already useless since the day I was born.

I just wanted to be a Hero more than anything. Deep down I still wish I could have done things differently. I wish that All Might could have just told me I could be a Hero. I wish that UA would have accepted me even though I was quirkless. I wish that I could have been the one to become the number one Hero. Instead I'm just a failure.

I've become nothing more then just a useless villian, if you can even call me that. Someone I used to know would tease me and call me something. Ironically the damn nickname he gave represents everything I am now.

A failure

Useless

Deku


	2. All Mights Words

"It's not wrong to dream, however you need to be realistic kid."

His words that day were the start of all of this. I stood on that roof for hours pouring through my notebook with tears streaming down my cheeks. Why couldn't I be a Hero? He said I needed power, that someone without aquirk had no chance standing up to evils of the world. I stood on that roof for hours stupidly hoping, that against all odds, All Might would come back and tell me I could do it. That I too could become a Hero.

I later found out that Kacchan had gotten attacked by that same Villain that had assaulted me. Maybe if I had been there I could have done something to help him. Luckily, more pro Heroes arrived and saved him before the Villain could truly take over.

I needed power. All Might was right about that. Before I had neglected my body, vainly hoping that through sheer force of will I could somehow manage to manifest a quirk. Not anymore.


	3. Determination

My mom was surprised when I came home that night and nearly begged her to buy me a gym membership.

She looked at me startled, "Why do you want to join a gym all of a sudden?"

I looked down and tried to hide my eyes, "Well, I'm not going to get a quirk anytime soon, but maybe I can be at least a little like All Might if I just got stronger. Maybe, I can even be...a Hero."

Her eyes softened, "Oh, Izuku.' She held me by the shoulders brimming with determination, 'we will go find one tomorrow. I promise you."

She brought me into her warm embrace. I let myself almost forget what happened that day in her arms. I almost let myself give up on my dream, but I didn't and it ended up costing me everything.

That night I couldn't rest. I spent the whole night looking up different gyms and fighting styles. I looked at kung fu, mixed martial arts, and even capoeira. I realized that if I was serious about going through with my plan I would need both a gym and good hand to hand combat school. Eventually, I stumbled upon a fighting style called Krav Maga that would work for fighting against armed Villians.

When morning came I was ready. I had spent the night developing a workout regiment, food plan, and managed to find a Krav Maga gym. I had it all collected in a new notebook. Number 14- I named it "My Origin."


	4. Training

Mom delivered on her promise the very next morning. She got me the gym membership and even paid for the Krav Maga classes. I got to work that very same day. My first order of buisness was to get my body into shape. I couldn't be a Hero if I was weak after all.

The first weeks of training were absolute hell. My body was constantly sore, my mind was busy remembering fighting techniques, but worst of all my body was adjusting to my diet. I was constantly hungry and my body burned as I repeatedly tore it apart so it could become stronger. The only thing that kept me going was knowing that this training would let me be a Hero. My grim determination was stronger than anything my body or mind could throw at me. I absolutely had to become a Hero, no matter what.

The Krav Maga classes were especially difficult, I spent thousands of hours practicing my techniques and basic principles. The instructors thought I was a natural, but the truth was I would spend every hour I could training at my own place. I could tell I was worrying my mom with how hard I was pushing myself, but she always seemed to be so happy when I went up a belt at the school or showed off my newly formed muscles. Her smile made everything just a little easier.

My personal training was going really well and as time went on I could lift more, run faster and longer, I even started to overtake some of the best fighters at my Krav Maga school. I started feeling a bit more confident in myself and thought, "Maybe, I'm not useless like Kacchan always said, maybe I can actually do this."

I met someone two months before the UA entrance exam that completely changed how I trained. I first noticed him during one of Krav Maga classes, he just stared at all the students, silently judging us. He kept coming to the classes quietly observing until one day he pulled me aside while on my way home.

"Listen kid, you are something special. What they teach you in those classes will be useful for what you want, but it won't compare in the slightest to what I could teach ya."

I stared at him with a look of utter shock. Just who the hell was this guy? I lowered my gaze, "I'm sorry sir, but I really need to get going...my mom she worries alot. So, I um...I should really get going..."

"Don't you wanna become a Hero?"

I stopped in my tracks, fists tightly clecnhed. I looked up at him, "There isn't anything else in the world I want as much as my dream to become a Hero. That's why I can't waste my time on some stranger who could be offering nothing but lies."

He sighed, "Alright kid, I understand where you are coming from" he gave me a slight smile, "Soooo, let me show you what I have to offer."

He slipped into a loose boxing stance and began shuffling in place. This guy looked like trouble, he was tall about 6 feet and looked like he was made of pure muscle. I dropped into my own fighting stance, carefully observing my new opponent. He was clearly a foreigner judging by his blond hair and accent, I would say he was probably an American. As he bounced from one foot to another I caught a glimpse of what seemed to be dog tags. Maybe he was ex-military? I needed to be careful around this guy, he seemed to kno-

I narrowly dodged his first punch. It seemed to come out of nowhere with superhuman speed, had I not reacted in time I was sure I would be sprawled on the ground unconscious. He punched again but this time I was ready for him. I grabbed hold of his arm and threw him over my shoulder. I smiled, happy that my training had actually come through. Before I could turn around to land a second blow, I was swept from feet. I rolled with the fall confident that i could still turn the fight around. He threw a few kicks, which I managed to just barely avoid. I managed to land a solid punch on his chest, however I quickly found it he only let me hit him so he could land a punishing blow on my stomach.

He bent down and pulled me to my feet, "That was pretty good kid. You even managed to land a few solid hits. Tell you what, I'll train you for free. Names Joe Wilson and for the next month or so I'll train ya on how to handle real Villains."


End file.
